The little girl was heartbroken.
They killed him! she sobbed. They killed him!
And him so tall and shining, and his antlers reaching up, up, up to the trees, and his velvet muzzle that you wanted to stroke.
And he called you his bonny wee bird, and his daughter.
And he came down from the altar and danced, danced with everyone.
And him so shining and full of life, and now he's dead. He's dead.
The mother takes the child into her arms and holds her head against her shoulder.
Oh, but only see, she whispers into her ear, turning her around again to face the altar.